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What a gift! We have heard and read so much about the “present moment” over many decades and wonderful books from Be Here Now to The Power of Now. Like a mind-medicine, future worries and ruminations on the past can disappear into the present moment. Yet, for many of us, that good old ever-present present moment is so very elusive, so slippery. Let’s take a closer look to find out why.

We do, after all, encounter lots of moments; those discrete segments of sensation, perception, emotion or thought. But how do we stay with them? We might, as some suggest, soft-label those moments like “itching” (sensation-perception) or “planning” (thought). Gently noting these moments helps tame a jack-rabbit mind. It helps herd and tether the ox. Note…note…note…it is like knocking on a door with just a peek inside at the present moment, before it disappears. Trying to note oneself into the present may become frustrating–we no sooner note a present moment, before we discover that it has vanished into the past. Dang!

Still, the sensate focus seems to initiate at least a brief experience of here/now, and is welcome respite from past and future preoccupations. But there are challenges. Noting sounds, audition, can seem to reveal discrete experiences of the present in the form of a burp after a big sip or a clap of thunder. It’s tempting to call those moments the present, but difficult to categorize them as such when we ponder the beer drinker’s long-winded belch or echoing thunder across a stormy sky. Are these prolonged sensations some kind of prolonged “moment”? And what about the meditation bell and its euphonious, pealing ring? More complicated yet are long-lingering sights and smells and tactile-kinesthetics-not exactly momentary. As we have discovered, these are moments quite impermanent.

Sensation may be an entryway to the present, but we stumble as we try to catch the moment inside. Be here now is a good start, but maybe not such a good finish. Maybe the present is so darn slippery because (even gently) grasping it in any given moment is the wrong idea. The renowned Harvard Functionalist rejected reducing mental events into discrete pieces or moments, and said that consciousness was like a stream. Try to catch that!

Thus, some have reasoned that the present moment is less a distinct and separate instant and more a continuum; that stream, a kind of flow. Positive psychologists have asserted that flow is like “being in the zone”, where the human subject becomes one with the object of doing. It is said that in certain sports, games, or creative activities, a flow state is achieved where the subjective experience of time disappears! Could it be that in the ballroom dance, or the writer’s scribbling poem, or in a long embrace there flourishes an experience (not a moment) of the present. It is said that the meditator’s quieted mind could likewise experience that flowing state. Perhaps in seeking the concrete and tangible moment of the present, we have foreclosed on the possibility of ever truly knowing it.

So be truly now and here! The connection of now and time transforms as we let go of the present moment, of analogue clock ticks, and relax into flow. Similarly, we could let go of here as place. After all, there is nowhere to go. As E. E. (ee), poet master of lower case put it:

seeker of truth

follow no path
all paths lead where

truth is here.

Here, no path and all paths, non-located.

To sum up, the present is not a moment, it is not exactly now, and it is not exactly here. It more closely approximates something both timeless and placeless, flowing, a river–and that presents another tempting illusion: just jump in! But who jumps where? And, once “in” the river, then what? Float, swim, sink…drown?

Our metaphor breaks down because we are not in the river of the present-we are the river of the present. We are always in flow, but our misperceptions and delusions falsely tell us otherwise. We glimpse this truth in the aforementioned experiences of dancing or poeming or lovemaking or meditating. We are the stream. As the Blog Poet wrote, the present is

“nowhere not,
lost when sought”.

So lose the seeking. Lose the diver and the dive and the stream too. Let go into the present, a soundless splash.

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mæd.nəs (noun) behavior or thinking that is very foolish or dangerous: extreme folly.

Have you heard? Colleges and Universities are in trouble nine ways from Sunday. There is unaffordability, the tuition debacle, and declining enrollment; there is diminished academic freedom and suppression of free speech; there are warring factions, politicization, and courses become propaganda.  There is turning college into (pretend) businesses and their presidents into (pretend) CEOs. There is an obscene increase in administrators in relation to a reduction in teachers and teaching. There is the research reproducibility crisis and the failed EdTech revolution. And, at this writing, there are higher rates of unemployment for college grads than for the general population. Was that nine?

But, don’t worry, none of that matters.

Why? Because AI has arrived! The mad enthusiasm for Artificial Intelligence in Education is stunning, especially if you exclude the views of most teachers and students. AI Enthusiasts are administrators, technologists, developers, consultants, and investors…the self-proclaimed Innovators who mostly ignore those 9 ways to Sunday woes. Impossible? Not for these Techno-Optimists. Read on and remember that these mad people are not bad people, but they have deeply engaged folly in a land of (artificial) wonder. This essay will review the current AI Wonderland against the original, in bold, published on November 26, 1865. First, from the White Queen:

“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

Some impossible things:

1 “AI in education is moving fast. AI will not replace teachers- it will empower great educators”.
2  “AI is reshaping education- not by replacing teachers but by amplifying their impact”.
3 “As AI begins to transform various sectors, education is no exception”.
4 “AI is no longer the future of education, its becoming the foundation of smarter schools”.
5 “…a fantastic guidebook to place AI at the center of your course”
6 “Artificial Intelligence in education is transforming learning through Intelligent technology…But it’s also making it harder to stand out (emphasis added). That’s the paradox nobody expected”.

The irony of that last observation on banality is not lost among the professors and students and researchers sounding the alarm on AI in education. After all, with AI homogeneity, essays, charts, projects and proposals kinda all look the same–nothing stands out! More critical onlookers call it AI Slop. This madness is pervasive. Alice wanted nothing of her own Wonderland madness:

‘But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ said Alice. ‘Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the cat. ‘We’re all mad here.’

These mad (not bad) people are everywhere in Academia. Pity Alice and pity the teachers and students surrounded by madness. For the pro AI in Education Crowd is mad and massive, and has the full backing of Universities, who have the full backing of (guess who) the trillion-dollar AI industry.

In fact a state University President recently got as artificial as it gets when she introduced her own customized AI Avatar that announced “I am thrilled to share this moment with you…It’s only fitting isn’t it? After all, technology is a cornerstone of what makes (the) University such an incredible place to learn, innovate, and grow.”  For this “incredible place” Open AI secured a cool 16.9 million-dollar payday from the University system. Madness.

Meanwhile, outside of Wonderland, research has identified significant dangers for students who use artificial intelligence. Specifically, it can promote a decline in content knowledge and loss of critical thinking skills related to cognitive “off-loading” and cognitive “surrender”. If graduates copy and paste AI answers for four years, what have they really learned… or earned? Of what value is a diploma? Innovators in Wonderland conspicuously ignore such research and those troubling questions.

Students who resist AI use might be at a real or imagined disadvantage compared to their AI avid classmates. So they join in–it has been a bandwagon becoming full.  After all, grades are at stake and you “gotta do what you gotta do” to be successful, right? Well not quite. Consider the college grad employment data mentioned at the outset of this essay. Or the riveting occasions where commencement speakers extolling AI have been roundly booed by graduate victims of the technology. Maybe AI is not the path to success. Band-wagoned students might be jumping off for their lives and their futures. Fewer students will be jumping on for the ride to a meaningless, copy and paste degree.

So how do these AI Innovators maintain their enthusiasm against the research evidence and the growing number of skeptics? Wonderland enthusiasts might answer that it is the AI Adventure that really matters: the flashy AI-generated slides, posters, and presentations, as well as the applause, thumbs up and like-buttons from fellow users. Not the boring and off-message explanations of researchers or the angst of key stakeholders. After all, The Gryphon proclaimed

“The adventures first, explanations take such a dreadful time.”

One more thing. Administrations promote AI use not just to students, but to Professors themselves. More automation, more applications to handle every aspect of the teaching process: grading, feedback, teaching assisting, rewriting long articles into brief summaries, slide generation; AI for creating lessons, syllabi, and leveled texts. Enthused Professors buy in. Alert Professors begin to understand that they are training their replacement.

Unless wiser minds prevail, AI will rule Higher Education. Students and teachers will go through the motions of Knowledge, while knowing less and even forgetting how to know.

“Curiouser and curiouser!”

And when it comes to the immense problems colleges and universities face, Artificial Intelligence will not be the solution. It will be the knock out punch.

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Trajectories of a human life seem to follow discrete patterns across fixed domains. After all, we are physical beings and cognitive beings and beings of self and personality. In any given moment, we could observe our body or our mind or our very self. For example we might think “my stubbed toe hurts” (body) or “I’m thinking too much about my toe” (mind) or  “I’m too much of a worrier” (self).

Each observation seems factual and solid. But is it?

After all, the toe pain passes along with thoughts about it and self-judgments in relation to it. The point here is that most everything in the moment seems solid and permanent before it is whisked away in another moment or two. The bottom line is that our sense of a fixed reality might be more illusory than it seems. Decades ago, the esteemed Person-Centered Psychologist of his time noted that we are “a process not a product” and he called this process “becoming a person”. We are not product or static. We are not solid and separate from everything else. A beloved Tibetan Buddhist Nun put it succinctly: “nothing solid is happening”.

This reflection reflects the wisdom of anicca or impermanence. Nothing lasts; all is process whether me or the days of my life. On a good day we could appreciate the day’s fleeting goodness all the more and on a bad day, well, it’s nice to remember that (from the Sufi Poets) “this too shall pass”.

We are a process; we are becoming; nothing lasts. The child’s body and mind give way to the teen’s. Our young adult body and mind age into middle age, then old age. We are becoming, in this sense, to our last breath. And maybe beyond…

In the fourth Century, the Bishop of Nyssa embraced these principles of process, becoming and growth by invoking the concept of epektasis. From the Greek, it connotes a kind of stretching out and evolving; “never to stop growing toward what is better and never placing any limits on perfection”… “God is indeed in you” (Beatitudes VI).

If there is an afterlife and how we arrive there no one knows for sure. Death empties us of body and perhaps of the brain’s mind as well.  Maybe we arrive with empty bags, no baggage, not a “me” anymore…and we somehow and immediately merge with the Godhead, the Buddha Nature on the spot. God is indeed in you!

But what if we arrive, as some believe, with bags full of the past: of childhood’s ego and egotisms as well as the identities and confusions developed from adolescence onward– a whole lot of ME at those Pearly Gates. It could be a messy afterlife. But perhaps, in that full suitcase case, we are in process too. In epektasis. We are becoming for eternity, we are less and less me (and my identity), and more and more the Essence (the Godhead) that has always resided in and around me.

In the first case, our beatific transition might be considered sudden and immediate; in the latter case, gradual and eternal. And one more thing.  What if these are one and the same? What if eternity is timeless; a mere split second? Then temporal notions of sudden and gradual disappear into that fateful eternity. Either way, what a fate, Amor Fati!

Maybe we should start unpacking now.

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A crying baby on a passenger plane creates stress for all-especially the baby. But otherwise infants are a beloved fascination for the astute adult. In truth, we might learn a few things from these blessed beings we all once were.

Notice, for example, how a baby in a crib reaches for and grabs a little light-blue rattle, then squeezes and shakes it in those delightfully random, repeated arcs, primary circular reactions. But then this little one spies a bright yellow and red caterpillar plush toy nearby: the sudden object of desire. Well, instead of rattle-release in favor of the plush toy, something quite strange happens. The more the child wants the caterpillar, the more they hold fast to the rattle in their grasp. Immense frustration follows, for there is no having the object of desire without releasing the object in hand.

Apoplectic cries and tears might follow. And maybe, a broad swipe with accidental grip-release, and the rattle flies; more tears, then eventual calming. Now, with the hand free to reach for that caterpillar, there is a squeeze (the toy makes a crinkle sound) and a baby’s sense of delight!

This lesson of when to hold on and when to let go is with us everyday of our lives.

Preschoolers are deeply concerned about pee and poop. And decisions on evacuation can stymie the best of them. When do I hold on? When do I let go? Mistakes have messy consequences and may invite the ire of big people. For all involved, these high stakes dances around the potty chair can lead to shame or to autonomy. After all, a good poop, holding on and then a proper letting go, is something to be proud of!

Young kids throwing a ball learn an optimal grip and release to achieve their target, and herald their competency. And life’s targets just keep on coming as teen and young adults continue to learn this lifelong lesson on enduring or giving up and in…and the pacing for each. Self-evident is the inarguable virtue of knowing when to pursue and when to let go of relationships, careers, poker hands and stocks in portfolios. Sometimes we must hold fast to what we have. But sometimes when we hold on to what we’ve got too hard and long, we are not so free to reach for something new. The Old Taoist Master said, “watch the timing”.

This wisdom rings true from our first day to our last; from our first breath to our last breath. This will be our final lesson. Our well-lived lives will inform those last breaths. For at the end, these may be erratic breaths, shallow breaths-all natural of course and not generally painful. But if we have built the knack for it, there is surrender to respirations however they come. These are our fleeting and precious holdings on and lettings go- to the last agonal breath.

What happens next has been a cause of wonderment for living creatures since our ancestors packed graves with tools and supplies for the afterlife. What comes next is the crux of the mystery. The great 18th Century German polymath wrote that “the highest state man can attain is wonder.”

Whether man, woman or child; whether facing life or facing death, wonder is a pretty good way to go.

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We talk a lot and occasionally to good ends. Perhaps we do not appreciate our communicating gifts, in part because speech is so pervasive. And listening so scarce!

Grasshoppers hum out to their fellows with rapid strokes of antennae or wings. Ants deposit a pheromone trail for safekeeping: to guide, to elude predators, and to pursue food sources. Pheromones you may have heard are also pretty good for attracting mates! Safety, food and sex are high stakes for tiny creatures and big ones too. One wonders why insects are so good at communicating even as humans can be pretty darn bad at it. Perhaps, unlike us, grasshoppers truly hear the sounds of their sidekicks.

When did talking rise to the pinnacle of our social experience? When did listening descend to a postscript? Our world of Talkers seems to louden after each Tech advance from telephones, to the internet, to social media. Such cacophony! Now most everyone has a platform, demanding influence, likes and listeners. But with everyone expressing, no one is left to be receptive, to receive; to bear witness.

The Psychotherapy Room occupies a sacred space in this communication paradigm. It’s blessed like a Priest’s Confessional or the Sacred Circle of a Shaman or like going alone to the teacher in Dokusan. Special communications join there and knowledges exchange. Listening is integral. Clients in psychotherapy enjoy, muddle through, and struggle with these exchanges. But there prevails a special overarching experience: to be heard, to be witnessed. Some clients realize that whether by family or by friends or by colleagues they have never or only rarely been heard. Think of it! And then ponder about how increasingly normalized this tragedy has become in our world of Talkers.

Ironically, the deep desire to be heard elevates loquacity. The more we want to be heard the more we seem to speak. And the more conversations take place in vitro (lab of the mind) and not in vivo. Inner monologues and dialogs are fine only if they do not displace communicating with another: I-I versus I-Thou. Picture a world of neurotics mistaking interior me-to-me conversations for the real thing.

This delusion has exploded today across social media mirages. Ours has become an asocial and lonely world. Legions have turned away from their human counterparts only to nuzzle with human illusions transmitted on smart-phones. Many more will look to artificial intelligence and chatbots to try to nourish social and belonging needs. But there is no there there. Tiny pockets of society are already collapsing because of it…youngsters are more vulnerable but all are at risk. We are starving for each other.

Sometimes, when things fall apart, opportunity arises for something new. Perhaps we now arrive at such place and such a time; a time to be still and listen deeply; to gaze into the eyes of the other; to pause and feel the miracle of that other human life before us; and to watch the otherness disappear into our shared humanity.

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What it must have been like in our first days to encounter the gods above and all around us that delivered every possible comfort and nurturing. By breast and bottle we were fed; by blanket warmed and by lullaby entranced into sleep. As time went by, we did not notice the imperfections, the lapses. And later, even as we noticed, it was hard to accept that Mom and Dad were not quite the perfect deities we had imagined. There is disappointment. All parents fall from the supernatural grace bestowed on them by sensorimotor and preoperational intelligence and our wish for heaven on earth.

Some parents fall harder than others. And they are not the only ones.

Complications arise with this fall from pedestals, yet we seem to be hard wired to never give up on the search for the perfect friend, lover, teacher, and coach. And in this Age of Influence, screens manifest an almost infinite array of gods and goddesses we so want to believe in! Who does not want a perfect hero to emulate; to explain things; to guide us through troubled waters? Like those perfect parents…we never had.

Perhaps our problem comes in what we are looking for in our heroes.  After all, there is within us something bigger and much deeper than a parent to be projected (more on that later).

Let’s start with this: All of us are flawed and some of us tragically so; hamartánein; flawed and downfallen. Think of the famed Buffalo Bills running back accused of uxoricide; the revered Labor Leader implicated in serial sex abuses; the alleged child rape perpetrators: a Prince; a Governor; a Movie Director. Even the persona, Miranda Sings, was alleged to have groomed and formed inappropriate relationships with underage fans. We seem to imbue some heroes with an imagined (Perfect Parent) greatness that obscures a deeply defective nature. All of these were heroes to some and ultimately grave and bitter disappointments.

So what about that something within us, bigger and much deeper than a Parental Projection?  Almost there…

Seeking Superstars, we have lost track of what heroism is, of the everyday hero’s journey: our own lives of challenge, of triumph, of pain and unsatisfactoriness. We all brave it all, our very imperfect quest. And when you think about it that way, heroes abound!

We could be inspired and learn so much from the imperfect but heroic friend, lover, teacher, and coach. So we must not fall into a trap of our own making by projecting a Perfect Parent/Perfect Person across a very human figure. An impulsive firing of such an exemplar could be an unfortunate, unforced error. As inevitable shortcomings appear, our disappointment would lead to termination, and a serious job opening for the next would-be Superstar in our lives. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Yikes!

Our delusion resides in the very wish for the Perfect Parent- a test all parents fail, as do all subsequent potential occupants of that nonpareil-sized hole in our hearts. It takes courage to accept that there are no Perfect Parents and no Perfect Superstars to fill their shoes. There is just us.  A little over eight billion of us (heroes abound), who can never ever fill that heart hole for the Perfect Parent…and should just stop trying.

Now let’s get to what is bigger and deeper, even than Mom and Dad!

There is an old Zen saying, “if you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him”. The wise Buddhist Psychotherapist from Washington, DC, authored a book with that title and submitted that “if you have a hero, look again: you have diminished yourself in some way.” Beyond parents, we ought not project the inner hero, the Buddha nature within, onto anyone either. After all we are, each of us, the hero we have been searching for!

This is our remedy and what might fill our ailing heart. We could reclaim our own inner (imperfect) hero and begin to see the inner hero that resides in all human beings.

We are in good company.

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Where does this thought come from?
I mean this very thought,
this terse verse rising from
utter emptiness.

Emptied into the mess
of messy words and images,
from mirages and memories,
from stories and dreams and

Memes and fragments that
occupy fully, then vanish
into timeless tombs.

And into wombs to be born
again, cogito.
Not ergo anything,
Just a thought without a thinker,
Just to tinker around the edges.

Edgy to know
that we are not our thoughts.

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We live in some kind of mix of wonder and terror, with so many fed-up people swearing off the news… and becoming hooked on their smart phones. Evolutionary biologists have called ours an age of hyper-novelty, whereby our novelty attracted brains bounce from this to that in an ever-accelerating media world bent on attention capture. Minds captured by technologists who manipulate our deepest emotions, like fear and envy and anger. Yep, our mind, our very intelligence, is trapped by clever bells and whistles into repetitive phone searches and doom scrolling. And when you reflect upon it, you are not always sure just why you picked your phone up in the first place.

And it is about to get a lot worse.

Let’s start in the distant past for a chance to understand where we are now, and where we might be going. And by the way, no expertise in evolutionary science is claimed here, so the following is advanced from the perspective of just a sincere student.

Nearly two million years ago, Homo Habilis roamed this earth, Africa to be exact. He was so-called for his ability to use stone tools like large animal bones for butchering. The little fellow stood 3 ½ to 4 ½ feet tall, and his body was somewhat apelike.

This short-legged, long armed being is invoked here to exemplify one of the earlier members of the Homo genus, and an indirect ancestor to ourselves. We are Homo sapiens and hopefully we have learned a few things about tools over the past 300,000 years. Homo sapiens implies “wise man”. How wise human beings have been with the tools they create could occupy volumes of pros and cons. Think hammer and plow; printing press and steam engine, think machines of war. Yes, it’s a mixed bag.

Now, think computers and artificial intelligence, and feel the tilt of the room, if not the whole planet.

A central thesis in this little essay is that wisdom takes some time… and that we are behind schedule. This proposition is best explained by the esteemed Myrmecologist who argued that “The real problem of humanity is the following: we have paleolithic emotions; medieval institutions; and god-like technology”. What could possibly go wrong?

AI developers have been obsessed with developing the god-like tech of intelligence, AGI. Theoretically, artificial general intelligence will surpass human capacities in, well, everything. And then there is super intelligence that can, it is said, solve all problems. You have probably heard of the high-stakes race to develop this god-like technology. While it is sometimes represented as a panacea (there will be some of that), it is being created by people with Paleolithic emotions…a room full of Homo Habilis minded chief executives. Think job loss, cognitive decline, autonomous weapons. Nightmares will outnumber panaceas. By a lot.

Motivated by avarice and ego, developers race forward at breakneck speed with no brakes. They seem to wrongly believe that developing intelligence is merely a matter of evermore information and large language modeling. This dangerous race is like something out of middle school…Sam must beat Elon…Elon must beat Dario. But there is a point not considered or perhaps just suppressed because it will only slow these ambitions down.

You see, while intelligent, these very smart AI’s are not wise, nor will they ever be. This reflects the intelligent but unwise minds of those creators. AI creators seem not to understand that when wisdom does take hold, it is more than an expanding cranium. It is that larger brain but so much more: development across vast expanses of time with a visceral exertion to survive, and send our genes down the road for one more generation. That is what has grown whatever wisdom humans might take credit for across religions and philosophies and mythologies. Technologists can set in motion the ingredients but only time and (right) effort will bake the evolutionary cake. AGI will mimic Lao Tzu without the wisdom of the Old Master. Lao Tzu with hallucinations.

Perhaps this error in conceptualizing intelligence and wisdom relates to a prejudice most of us can understand. We all knew a smart kid growing up. Maybe we were that kid. And we have been swarmed with stereotypes about intelligent people and unintelligent people our whole lives. Status and accolades surround the intelligent; there is understandable pride and, quite often, the social trappings of success. AI creators occupy that space.

All this begs the question, what about the unintelligent? What about people with intellectual disability and what about people with dementia and other cognitive impairments?  There has always been a societal tendency to stigmatize and shun persons with mental statuses like these. Our (false) belief system about these people promotes disrespect, indifference and abuse. Here we find ourselves facing square-on an under-discussed prejudice, intelligism–A bias against persons with cognitive limits or impairments, based on an over-valuing of intelligence itself.

Of course, it matters when impairments happen, the onset, be it at birth, midlife, or in later years. Congenital disorders seem to be part of Identity and are often embraced. Later onsets with accidents and illness may seem alien to Identity and are usually rejected. All of that is a story for another day. Here, we contend that truly seeing the personhood of an individual with a diminished mind is a great blessing to the person and to their beholder. To believe otherwise is to discount personhood and buy into the intelligism that inflates the merit of intelligence into a false god. The AI rush is a nightmare and a heresy.

After all, AGI will certainly surpass all of us intellectually- you, me, and everyone we know. In relation to AGI, we are all the impaired, the unintelligent masses. We will bristle against this late-onset condition and feel trapped in it and by it. For it was only yesterday that we were ok, and then suddenly, we find ourselves thrown from the top of the heap.

Will AI condemn us? Shall we condemn ourselves? Shall we forget the wisdom that will always distinguish us from an intellectually superior AGI. At our best, we have these hundreds of thousands of years of exertion and learning, yielding personhood’s wisdom, and we desperately need it now. Lao Tzu did not represent wisdom as a function of Large Language Models. In truth, he said The Way was ineffable.

So it is all about to get a lot worse. Unless we can be wise, put intelligence in perspective, and pause AI development before that nightmare takes hold.

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We bear witness to such division today. Disharmonies are everywhere: nation against nation, generation against generation, and neighbor against neighbor. Tried and true institutions and values seem to be falling apart. Some formerly life-sustaining scripture bends and breaks, broken in relation to that never-ending, never-settled scientific revolution.

Many of us feel a little broken too.

Abounding threats, large and tiny, catch us quite off guard. We search our phones for answers, but there is not much to be found there except more bad news: a war declared trending on X; a voicemail from a suddenly ill, dear friend; another texted sales pitch.

But there abounds good news too, if we learn where and how to look for it. And it is ever-present, and perennial to boot. Last Century, a Philosopher and a Mythologist seemed to arrive, from different directions, at a single and very auspicious perspective.

The Philosopher took refuge in the library at Trabuco and dug in: reading, contemplating, writing. What emerged was a philosophia perennis, an account across time and philosophies and religions of the “Highest Common Factor”. Composed through the ages by saints, sages, and prophets, this perennial philosophy was everywhere to behold. It was transcendent and immanent, cosmic space and divine ground. The Philosopher had discovered that beyond and within the many differences between wisdom traditions floated enduring pay dirt: tat tvam asi.

The Mythologist, at nearly the same time, recognized something quite universal from the perspective of journeys undertaken in myth, fairy tale, scripture, and dreams. A monomyth. It was the heroes’ journey with legendary protagonists ranging from bear cult worshippers, to witch doctors, to Olympian gods, and finally, to our very selves. Later, the Mythologist would write of the collapse of many myths and religions held literally. Science and Rationalism would dispel beliefs in a Flood, a Parted Sea, and an Exodus. So he urged the necessity to explore a new yet ancient myth: “the old everlasting perennial mythology” that eternally exists along side the scientific method, with each illuminating the other. A perennial mythology that he identified more than once as tat tvam asi…that thou art. But what exactly does it mean?

The Chandogya Upanishad, created long ago (7th century BCE), conveys a Truth both Philosopher and Mythologist identified as perennial to the core, all around and within everyone of us. The story, in brief, goes something like this: An overly cocky twelve year old (imagine that) named Svetaketu, inquired of his father, Uddalaka, about the Knowledge whereby “we can know what cannot be known”. His father gave the boy a humbling task, to bring back a fruit from the nyagrodha tree and discover the tree’s inception. An experiment ensued as father directed son to break the fruit open; then, to break open a seed held within the fruit. Svetaketu searched but could not see the origin of the tree in the broken fruit and tiny seed.

Similarly, the boy was instructed to put some salt in a cup of water. The next day father asked son about the salt and its whereabouts, but it had dissolved, and the boy could not see it. Now taste the water instructed Uddalaka. It was, of course, salty…still present but invisible salt. Father explained that the hidden salt remained in the water even as the imperceptible Atman (Essence, Spiritual Self) remained in all things, as invisible as it was perennial.

Lovingly, Uddalaka concluded, “you my dear Svetaketu are that Essence, that thou art”.  Tat tvam asi.

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Don’t just do something,
stand there.
To be fair,
just sit there.

Sit and stare,
innocent, open, and offline.
Spine gently straight,
held firm and awake,
baking sapientia
in a (nothing special) sit.

Fit for no thing,
engaged with everything.
Standing now.

But don’t just stand there,
Do some sacred something,
bring your all,
to this,

our one and only lifespan.

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